gratefully, as if the poor cripple had drank in something besides milk
---the sweet draught of human affection, not dried up even to such
heavily afflicted ones as he.

"Are the lessons all done for to-day, papa?" said she, noticing that,
eager as it was, the little face looked very wan and wearied, but also
noticing with delight that her father's expression was brighter and more
interested than it had been this long time.

"Done, Helen? Well, if my pupil is tired, certainly."

"But I'm not tired, sir."

Helen shook her motherly head: "Quite enough for to-day. You may come
back again to-morrow."

He did come back. Day after day, in fair weather or foul, big Malcolm
was to be seen stepping with his free Highland step--Malcolm was a
lissome, handsome young fellow--across the Manse garden, carrying
that small frail burden, which all the inhabitants of the clachan had
ceased to stare at, and to which they all raised their bonnets or
touched their shaggy forelocks. "It's the wee earl, ye ken," and one
and all treated with the utmost respect the tiny figure wrapped in a
plaid, so that nothing was visible except a small child's face, which
always smiled at sight of other children.

It was surprising in how few days the clachan, and indeed the whole
neighborhood, grew accustomed to the appearance of the earl and his sad
story. Perhaps this was partly due to Helen and Mr. Cardross, who,
seeing no longer any occasion for mystery, indeed regretting a little